It was true. But I wasn’t sure if I should encourage her or discourage her. Before my mind stopped swaying, mother continued, “He threw that shit at you yesterday, because he still thinks you are spiritually a dwarf and physically no more than half a dwarf. He hates to see you wearing no makeup, no high heels, no pretty clothes. He hates it when you are sometimes so weak you can’t even open a beer bottle. He hates to know that you are easily bullied. He very much hates the fact that your job is unstable and your future uncertain. He hates to face that you are being the weakest of the weak in this cruel world of people-eatpeople. He hates to feel that you are more and more like a copy of him. He hates that genetically you carry most of his blood: a stubbornest mind with a tenderest heart while being the slowest person with the shortest legs. He really hates that, for the first time ever, you’ve disappointed him. And when you really have disappointed him, it is as though he has disappointed himself.”